


Turnaround

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Trials of Hell and Heart, or Season 8 Fan Fiction [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Walk in the Garden, Alternate Season/Series 08, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Blades, Angel Tablet, Brainstorm, Counteroffensive, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2013, Gen, Heavenly affairs, Hellhounds, Kidnapping, Leviathan Tablet, Leviathans, M/M, Marking a Soul, Men of Letters Bunker, Nature of the Soul, Saving a Soul, Sex Fantasy, Summoning a Demon, The Three Tablets, The Three Trials, Torturing a Demon, demon tablet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel explains the perils of the Third Trial to Sam and Dean, who resort to capturing a crossroads demon for information, landing them in the crosshairs of Hellhounds. With Crowley's forces receding, Naomi's angels regroup to target Cas while the Winchesters are focused on the Gates of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Outside

Naomi's fury radiated beyond her office. Anyone walking in the general vicinity could feel her anger simmering to the surface, and everyone knew that Naomi never became angry. Not like this.

Amber weathered the storm fairly well, given the circumstances. 

"Five dead, five! You said you had Castiel and Metatron!" Naomi yelled. 

"Benjamin sent me to report to you, but when I returned, they were all dead. Except Gideon. He wasn't there."

"Two were killed by Leviathan," Naomi continued. "Why were Leviathan there?"

"I don't know, ma'am," Amber answered. "But when I returned, one of the demons Benjamin killed was alive and cavorting with Therion."

"Just the two of them?"

"Yes, there was no sign of Metatron or Castiel."

"Anything else?"

"No, ma'am."

"Do we have status on Crowley's other attacks?" she asked. 

Amber nodded. "Yes, ma'am. They've stopped attacking schools, but we have intelligence Crowley may target other groups soon."

"Any specifics?"

"We know Crowley's only goal is to distract the Winchesters," Amber replied. "Sapphire will be back soon with additional reports."

"Dismissed," Naomi ordered.

 

"I do not know," Castiel repeated. "What part of that escapes your understanding?"

"Cool it, both of you!" Dean interjected. 

Sam barely managed to hold back, but Dean knocked him into his chair. 

"Dude, reign it in, you can barely stand," Dean said. 

"If I knew how to complete the trial," Cas continued more calmly, "then I would tell you."

"Fine, then, who would know?" Sam asked. "Who would know how to remove a mark from a living soul?"

"That's not the problem," the angel replied. "Removing a mark is nothing, the problem is that the mortals we're discussing have taken the mark voluntarily. I can remove a brand placed by force. A mark added to a willing soul? No angel can remove that. Not without killing the individual."

"That's not an answer, Cas!"

"Sam, cool it," Dean cut in.

"I like this," Ellie added casually. "Three guys fighting over me."

The angel began, "We aren't fighting over you, just how to – "

"Cas, not now," Dean said. "Let's focus on what we know."

"When a claim is placed on a living soul, it is branded," Cas began. 

"Marks added by way of demon details stick harder," Dean added.

"And as far as we know, all the methods used to expunge those marks wind up killing the person," Sam completed. "Unless you deal with another demon – "

"Sorry, what?" Ellie asked.

Sam answered, "Kevin said that wouldn't work for this trial, but you can make a deal with a demon to remove the claim on a soul."

"One time, Sam held off the hellhounds while I got the devil bitch in a trap," Dean recounted. "And we made a deal. I'd let her out if she'd let the guy live."

"That was before we knew how to kill demons," Sam said.

Cas said, "That's another reason why that wouldn't work now. Demons won't deal with a Winchester," the angel said to Ellie. "They're known for having no mercy."

"Towards demonic douchebags," Dean commented.

"Ah," Ellie said, sitting down. "Besides, that'd mean your soul would be marked instead, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

The room filled with silence. 

"Oh, com'on!" Dean exclaimed. "We gotta know something more than that."

"What about those, uh, things that collect souls?" Ellie suggested. "The evil dogs."

"Hellhounds," Sam said. "They must hone in on the mark."

"Fido can sniff'em out?" Dean asked as he scribbled a note and pinned it to the corkboard. "I dunno what that means."

"Cas, what about how souls are branded?" Sam asked.

"I never branded a soul before," Castiel replied. He slipped into wide-eyed contemplation and didn't elaborate. 

After about two minutes, Dean spoke up. "Uh, Cas. Hello? Earth to Cas?"

The angel shook his head clear and made eye contact with Dean. "Did you just refer to yourself as 'Earth'? Is that a new nickname?" he asked Dean.

"No it's just, uh," Dean began. He realized explaining the expression to Cas might take too much time, so he went back to the topic at hand. "Balthazar did it, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"How?" Sam followed up immediately. 

The angel shook his head. "I imagine it had something to do with the deals he struck."

"Deals? As in plural?" Dean asked. "I thought it was just that one kid."

"Dean, not now," Sam said. "Cas, tell us everything about these deals."

"It's basic binding magic, I'm sure there's a book about it somewhere."

"That's not – " Sam began.

Cas interrupted, "Binding is different, and much easier, than unbinding magic."

Ellie asked, "What about the special cases you mentioned before? You said angels could remove marks from people who have made deals."

"Indeed," the angel replied. "A mark forced on someone's soul can be purged, burned away. But that same effect on a willing soul is always fatal."

"Why?" Dean asked.

The angel shrugged. "Unbinding a mark takes serious power, and when the soul's branded willingly, it takes ten times more. Removing it from a living soul simply comes at the expense of the body."

Sam sat up straight. "What if it isn't in the body?"

"That would be an effective measure," Cas said, "but then you would die, and the effort would be in vain."

"So if Ellie's soul is in her body, it burns away her body, and if the soul isn't contained, then it burns away my body?" Sam asked. 

"Assuming you were stupid enough to try, yes," Cas replied. 

"But that's something," Dean said, pinning up another note to the board. "A way to remove the mark and not kill Ellie. Feels like we're halfway there."

"All we'd need to do is figure out how to keep Sam alive," Casitel added. "That seems easier."

"Seriously?" Sam asked. 

Dean turned to Ellie, "This is why we don't usually have brainstorming sessions."

"Okay, a crossroads demon can remove a mark from a soul if a deal is made," Sam started. "I vote we summon one for a heart-to-heart."

"I gotta better idea," Dean replied.


	2. Look at Who

Crowley lived with setbacks. Part of being a demon, even the King of Hell, meant dealing with unreliable or dubious minions and their failings, yet even he had his breaking points. 

Therion gave him the lay of the land, so to speak, to the various entry points to the Great Levers, where Sam and Dean had to go to actually shut the Gates of Hell. Kull did him more than just a solid by gathering this intelligence; he gift-wrapped the best counteroffensive possible. Too bad the poor fellow died before being rewarded. 

In reality, Kull's death made the information even better. Therion alone knew that Crowley had this information, which meant that the Winchesters and Naomi were in the dark. 

He lost the Prophet. He lost Kull, and he failed to buck the Winchesters from their mission. That should have knocked Crowley onto his ass. Instead, he was laughing. 

"You asked for me, sir?" Wier said. 

"There's been a recent opening," Crowley began. "I need a new right-hand man, Wier, and, well, you're it."

"Me, sir?" the demon repeated, his voice a little stiff. "Are you sure?"

"And that's it, kitten," Crowley replied. "Most of the boys, I drag them in here and tell them they're promoted and they're ready to be torn apart by wild horses. You, on the other hand, seem a little tense. That means you're smarter than you look."

"It means that being promoted is only an honor if I live long enough to enjoy it," Wier replied. 

"Indeed. Right now, what I need is information. I need to know if the Winchesters move, when they move, how they move, who's with them. That kind of thing, but that's all I want. No fighting, no attacking, no plotting."

"Intelligence gathering only," Wier summarized. "That eliminates about half of the demons we have out there, sir. They see a chance, and they'll take it."

"Exactly, love! Exactly. What I need you to do is take the best of those demons, the strongest, and find a way to put them on ice. Lock them up, whatever you need to do."

"Yes, sir. What about the other half?"

Crowley drank his Scotch. One of the things he loved best about being King of Hell was making people wait. Wier had scrambled up the chain of command without drawing the attention of the Winchesters or other hunters. Even the angels didn't key in on him. He was just that good, but even he had to wait until Crowley was good and ready to speak before getting his damn orders. Something about that made Crowley feel powerful. 

"We need the Winchesters to think that Hell is desperate, that finishing the third trial will be the very end of us. So tell a few of our more violent counterparts that very story, and give them free reign to stop those idiots," Crowley directed. "Just be clear on the story, you understand?"

"I know the best candidates for that very task," Wier said playfully. 

"Once you've sent out enough, come back here for further instruction, darling."

"Yes, sir."

Wier left the room. Crowley noticed how stiffly formal the demon was, so terribly old school. The King would have to teach him right from wrong if he lived through this last Winchester problem.

 

Castiel and Sam waited in the Impala. The angel stared out the window, directly at Dean with no embarrassment or explanation. 

Dean had vivid dreams about Cas. In many of them, the angel was being attacked, or dying, or something reminiscent of day-to-day activities. But Dean also had intimate dreams, where the angel pressed kisses into his neck, his chest, his thighs. 

Naomi's tampering limited the angel's awareness of Dean's prayers and dreams after his escape from Purgatory, but now they filled him up with passion and lust and affection. Meanwhile, Dean acted opposite to the nature of these dreams, like Castiel was a pest instead of a lover. 

His heart fluttered at the idea of being with Dean in such a capacity. Dean's dreams were incredibly visceral, the physical sensation as much a component of the dream as the visual feast. Through his hunter's eyes, Cas felt Dean's arousal, his pleasure, his orgasm. 

The last dream had been the most intense, possibly because of his proximity to Dean at the time. It was a strange phenomenon, as the angel did not enter the dream with his powers, but he became bound up in it, as if the content itself drew him in. He kissed Dean, stroked his thighs, and rubbed his hips. He even took Dean's length into his mouth and felt the hunter buckle in pleasure –

Just the memory of the events reddened the angel's skin and made him very conscious of his vessel's arousal. Cas bit his tongue and stared at Dean Winchester, reminding himself that the dream was not reality. If anything, Dean avoided physical touch between them. There was no reason to suspect Dean actually had feelings for him.

"So, Cas, I've been meaning to ask," Sam said, his slightly green complexion tinting red with his own feelings. "About that book you made for Dean."

"Book?"

"The one where you answered his prayers because you couldn't actually call him," Sam reminded him.

"My letters," Castiel corrected. "What about them?"

"Why did you write them?"

"Guilt, mostly," the angel admitted, not taking his eyes off of Dean. "And I wasn't sure I would survive to apologize. That would've been unfortunate."

"Cas, Dean's not the only one who prays to you," Sam said. "But every letter in that book was addressed to him."

"The trouble with guilt as a motivational tool," Cas said, "is that its absence feels like absolution."

Sam wasn't sure what to make of that. "Are you saying my prayers didn't make you feel as guilty as Dean's?" he asked.

Castiel's blue eyes finally moved away from Dean to meet Sam's when he answered, "Your prayers don't make me feel guilty at all, which is especially surprising, given our history."

"Cas, breaking my wall and, all of that, it's behind me," Sam said. "Behind us. In the long run, you did me a favor."

The angel tilted his head with utter disbelief written across his face. 

Sam continued, "I mean, that wall was keeping me alive, but let's face it, it was a ticking time bomb. If I still had that thing and all my hell baggage, I'm sure Crowley would've used it to stop me from completing the trials."

"But I didn't break your wall to help you," Cas said. "I did it because it was the only way to blackmail your brother."

"You did it because you couldn't, and wouldn't, kill us," Sam replied. "I mean it, Cas, you're forgiven. Maybe you hurt me for the wrong reasons, but you saved me for the right ones."

"I understand that you feel that way," the angel replied thoughtfully. "But for some reason I don't."

"You've spent too much time with Dean," Sam commented jokingly. The idea made Cas's heart flutter, again. "You're holding onto blame. It's like emotional osmosis or something."

Silence. Minutes ticked by. The angel remembered how Dean squirmed before his orgasm - 

Sam asked, "Cas, how do you feel about Dean?"

"I'm concerned he will never forgive me," the angel replied. "Not like you have."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, what do you feel towards him?"

Cas's eyes swiveled around to Sam. "I don't understand - "

"Wait, something's happening," Sam said, pointing out the new arrival to the angel.

 

Outside, about a dozen yards from the car, another person joined Dean and Ellie. 

"It's about time, I thought we were being stood up," Dean said by way of greeting. 

"Crowley's gonna have half a dozen demons here to rip you apart – "

"Yeah, I don't think so, we're in a no-demon zone. No disappearing, no smoking out, no demon calls, nada."

"There's no devil's trap, Winchester," the demon replied smugly as he waved his hand and – nothing happened. 

Dean moved quickly, slapping handcuffs and winding the crossroads demon up in iron chains. 

"There's no devil's trap, because that's what Crowley would be looking for, and we're gonna have a nice quiet conversation without him getting involved, you understand?"

"Suck it!" barked the demon, struggling against the chains. "What did you do to me?"

"Just a little consecrated ground, a little hex bag work here and there, it's nothing," Dean replied mildly. "I'm not here to – "

"Torture me for information like you did to the last cross-roads demon?" he spat. He turned to Ellie and asked, "Who's your little bitch?"

Dean plowed the demon in the face. "Her name is Ellie, and you're gonna be polite, you understand?" 

"Fuck you!"

"Now, now, chuckles," Dean replied. "I didn't call you up here to torture you, I called you to make a deal."

"Sure you did."

"Ellie's soul here is ear-marked for Hell – "

The demon interjected, "And her payment's overdue!"

"I want you to remove the mark."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't!"

"Even if I offer you a straight up deal?" Dean asked. 

The demon turned his head and smiled. "You mean ten years and your soul for her freedom? Sorry, kiddo, doesn't work like that."

"I know that, I'm talking more like five years and my soul for her freedom."

"Dean – " Ellie started, but she stopped when Dean waved his hand.

"Maybe I can get you two years," the demon bubbled. "But that's it."

"So you can do it?" Dean asked.

"When a deal is struck that marks a soul for Hell, I can tap into our, uh, energy reserve," the demon explained. "I can do anything, including removing the mark and raising the dead, so long as that lock is turned."

"Lock?" Dean repeated. "Sorry, little slow here. What lock?"

"The mechanics aren't really your concern. You seal the deal with a kiss, I set things in motion. Oh, with a caveat, of course. If you even attempt to get out of this deal, even just talking about it, hellhounds collect on her deal and yours immediately."

The demon kept talking even when Dean turned his back and waved over Castiel and Sam. 

"He can do it!" Dean said happily. "Cas, you got Ellie?"

"Yes, we'll see you there," the angel replied. 

He took Ellie's hand and in the blink of an eye, she and Cas disappeared. 

Sam dragged the snarling demon and tossed him into the back seat of the Impala. Dean sat up front and waited for his brother. 

"Can we stop for chips?" Sam asked as he got back into the car.

 

Naomi had never felt powerless before. She'd been trapped, captured, tortured, sure, but she'd never once experienced a situation in which she was helpless. She possessed no solid expression of this experience. As an angel, she hated the idea of resorting to humanity's metaphors, but here she was, alone in her office, drowning.

She should blame Crowley; after all, he was the enemy. But in her mind, her fury honed solely on Castiel, the traitor she failed to reform. 

And she hated herself. The archangels asked her if she could convert Castiel, the angel gone rogue for humanity, the angel who led the civil war, the angel who believed in free will. Naomi never failed at such a task before, and now her first true failure, Castiel, not only stole the Angel Tablet, but also managed to herd a new onslaught of botched defectors to light. 

She'd received word that Matthon was still alive, and she knew that Nathaniel had achieved full freedom from her binding. Slowly, angels here and there slipped away, and nothing she did could contain it. Naomi lost her touch because of Castiel. 

An old friend, the love of her life, came into her office. She bowed her head, not wanting to make eye contact, not wanting to share her burden – 

"Naomi," the other angel said. "Will you walk with me in the Garden?"

Noami let her eyes drift up. The Garden. They'd only walk together there on personal business. She felt hope spark in her heart – 

"Naomi," the other angel repeated. "Please, this isn't about work. Come walk with me. Talk with me, as your closest friend and not your superior. Please."

She didn't think about it; Naomi left her chair and the weight of Heaven and Earth that came with it behind her.

 

"You told me you could do it," Dean repeated. "Sammy just wants to know how."

"I told you," the demon hissed. "I don't have that kind of power! You need to sign a contract to get something like that moving!"

"We get it, you don't have the power, we don't have the power," Sam said, tapping Dean out of the verbal sparing match. "Tell us about how it's done."

The demon bled profusely and had chains tangled around its every limb, yet still the creature laughed like it knew no pain. Dean lobbed holy water at him, and he yowled like a rabid dog.

"You fools," the demon said. "You think this is like flying or climbing a mountain? You can do it if you've got the juice? We'll it's not. You can't do it unless you – "

"We've heard this before," Sam said. His voice remained still and calm. Whatever illness had its hooks in him before took a back seat about an hour ago, and his entire body energized to a new level. 

Sam closed in on the demon. "Your boss once told us we couldn't summon Death. Lucifer could, because, well, that's Lucifer, but once he handed over that spell, we summoned Death just the same."

"The King? Working with the Winchesters? Please."

"He didn't tell you," Sam said slyly. "Course he wouldn't. I mean, that can't be easy on him. Knowing he owes everything he has to us. He can't let secrets like that out, now can he?"

The demon didn't respond.

"Yeah, see, back during the Apocalypse, Crowley was on the torture-for-all-eternity list," Sam said. "He wasn't in Lucifer's little camp, and he had to wait for us to take him down."

"And we had to summon Death to stop the next guy your boss couldn't take out," Dean started, leaving out that it was Castiel-gone-God.

"And then came Dick Roman," Sam continued. 

"What?"

"You must be new if you missed the Dick-hands-off directive on me and Sammy," Dean cut in. "Levis gave your boss a run for his money."

"So let's not play the dumb blond act," Sam picked up. "You are going to tell us everything because the truth is, your boss let you come to us. You're his little bitch messenger he fed into the meat grinder to get his dirty work done because he doesn't have the muscle for it."

"It'll hardly be the first time," Dean chimed in.

The lie was so seamless the demon couldn't navigate around it. He had been around long enough to know about Castiel-gone-God without them filling in that blank, and he'd gotten the hands-off notice on the Winchesters when the Leviathan were out in full force. 

"Why would the King of Hell want you two idiots to know how to remove his marks from human souls?" the demon asked.

"His marks?" Dean said. "Who said anything about the marks belonging to him?"

Sam saw the demon take the hook, so he continued, "Yeah, demons aren't the only one laying claims. Monsters. Angels. They can do it, too."

"What's it gonna be, jackass?" Dean taunted.


	3. Look at Where

"You've got to be kidding me!" Crowley bellowed. 

Avery didn't flinch. "Sir, he checked out on a basic deal summons, and we double and triple checked the spell – "

"If it's not the Winchesters, then where is he?" Crowley blurted. "Took a quick getaway? Got lost in a good daydream? Or is he trussed and tethered, spilling his guts to those wretched flannel-wearing nightmares!"

"They'll find themselves disappointed," Avery replied. 

"Sorry?"

"Since you gave the order, the only people I've let go on crossroads summons are, well, interns," Avery admitted. "We have lost a deal or two as a result."

"But the chump that's missing?"

"Knows how to bind a deal, nothing more," Avery replied. "He can't even do it by himself, he needs a senior partner to set anything in motion."

"That's something," Crowley answer. "I don't want to hear about any more mistakes, Avery."

"One more thing, sir," Avery said. "I have a few friends trained to track our interns down, just in case."

Crowley turned slowly towards one of his almost-intelligent minions. "And you waited until now to tell me?"

"All I need is your permission – "

"Send them! NOW!"

 

"The soul, when it's contained in the body, has an outer layer," said the demon. "Spirits have ectoplasm, similar idea. That's where a brand is laid. Removing a mark like that requires a purging spell."

"Purging?" Dean asked. "Doesn't sound like a demon deal."

"Angels invented the process, I'm sure. They don't need to tap into Heaven to do it. Basically, the soul sloughs off its outer layer of ecto – "

"That's when it burns up the body," Sam said to Dean.

The demon continued without interruption, "The tricky part is getting the soul to regenerate its outer layer."

"Like a snake, shedding skin," Sam acknowledged.

"But hundreds of times faster," the demon replied, "and instead of a reptile, it's like a tiny burning sun."

"What spell – " Sam began. 

He stopped speaking. A howl echoed outside. The Winchesters froze for a moment. They knew what made those kinds of barks.

"We've got company," Dean said. 

"Ace!" the demon boomed. "That's my boy!"

"You mean your bitch," Sam spat. 

With one swift motion, Sam plunged the Demon Knife into the helpless demon and started working the chains off of him. Dean whipped out the Colt and donned his holy-fire scorched glasses. 

"Hurry up, Sam – "

"Get the car ready."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"No, you're getting the damn car ready, go!" Sam said as he gathered up the hex bags. 

Dean ran to the Impala, which was parked at the other end the warehouse. He revved the engine and pulled around. No sooner had he reached his brother than two hellhounds burst into the building through boarded windows. 

Sam ducked into the car, too bogged down to take the Colt from Dean. 

"Damn it Sammy, it's illegal to shoot and drive," Dean said as he swirled the car around. 

"No it's not – "

"If texting and driving is illegal, then shooting and driving is illegal," Dean muttered.

One hellhound threw itself alongside the car, pushing it toward the warehouse wall. 

"Get off my baby you bitch!" Dean yelled as he fired the Colt out the driver side window. 

The hound yelped as it took the bullet and then fell dead. The other hound rounded to the passenger side, scrapping its claws down the side door – 

"Bitches!" Dean yelled as the Impala crashed through the makeshift door he didn't have time to pop open. "Baby's gonna get a new detail once this is all over – "

"Dean, the glasses – " Sam said as he took the Colt. 

Dean handed over his x-ray specs to his brother. 

"Slow down," Sam said. 

"What?"

"That's a hellhound, and it's got our scent," Sam replied. "It'll hunt us forever unless we take it out now."

Dean hated the idea, but he slammed on the breaks. "Fine! But you better take Fido out – "

Bang-yelp! The sounds echoed together. Dean didn't realize his brother had time to aim or make the shot. 

"You looked like shit this morning," Dean said. "Now you're a sharp-shooter. What the hell?"

"I can't explain it," Sam replied. "Just getting on track, figuring this out, makes me feel... stronger. Like it's a cure, almost."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, uh, can we go home now?" Sam asked.

 

Ellie was a terrible houseguest. Or maybe she was a good one. Castiel wasn't sure. In the four hours they were alone, she organized and scrubbed the kitchen. She cleaned the war room and tidied the entryway. At the same time, she made Castiel feel very uncomfortable with her questions about Dean and Sam. 

"You're friends with the brothers?" she asked.

"I consider them family," Castiel replied. 

"What do you think about Dean?" she asked next. 

"He's a good man," the angel said. He didn't like the way she asked the question, as if she meant something more. "Why do you ask?"

"I met him as a guy who wanted to work as a farmhand, found he could muck pretty well and really could handle his meat," she replied. 

"I've never seen him do either of those things," Cas admitted. 

"Uh huh," she replied. "You're different."

"I'm an angel."

She laughed. "Right, sure."

Ellie was joking with him. She'd never met a celestial being before and wasn't sure how to handle it. Cas didn't know that, so Ellie made him feel more awkward than usual.

By the time Dean and Sam pounded on the door, the angel literally ran to let them in. 

"You okay Cas?" Dean said as he pushed his brother into the Bunker. 

"To be honest, I feel very uncomfortable," Cas admitted. 

Sam stumbled toward the kitchen.

"Something happen?" Dean asked. There was something in his voice, and it inspired hope in Castiel. Was it jealousy?

"Ellie has been asking me questions."

"And you don't get her," Dean said smiling widely. "She confused the crap out of you, didn't she?"

Cas tilted his head. "You knew that would happen?"

"No," Dean said casually. 

"A warning would have been polite," Cas bickered.

Ellie caught the tail end of their conversation as she approached. She didn't mean to eavesdrop. But she saw the way Dean looked at this other man, or angel, whatever he was, and curiosity got the better of her. 

"Oh, sorry, just, uh, Sam sent me to get you," she said. 

"Right, let's go Cas," Dean said as he followed her into the bunker.


	4. Look at What

Naomi stood with her brothers and sisters as high orders came down from the celestial chain of command. 

"Elizabeth, take the Advanced Guard," the archangel ordered. "Abigail, you'll be leading the battalion. Lydia will take First Company with platoon leaders Bartholomew and Nicholas. Joanna, Second Company with platoon leaders Xavier and Nathan. Daniel, Third Company with platoon leaders Timothy and Judith."

As their names were called, the angels disappeared, each with their platoons, companies, battalions, guards. Naomi watched as her brothers and sisters vanished.

The Garrison that watched over the Earth had been obliterated. The soldiers they sent out now had less experience on Earth, and Naomi had known each one of them for a very long time. Maybe that was why her heart felt heavy as she watched her brothers and sisters depart from Heaven.

"Naomi," the archangel approached her. She hadn't realized that only five angels remained.

"You are to run Intelligence Operations with Calcifer and Noah as your seconds and Uriah and Gideon as your primaries."

"Me?" Naomi asked. She was the only angel to question her assignment, but it had nothing to do with the orders. "I'm – I will."

"You've been leading the charge for a long time without tiring," the archangel continued. "Time has stiffened your resolve. Our Intelligence Operations have expanded considerably and without additional support, yet you still did well. You will continue in your mission with the support you should have had years ago."

"Thank you," Naomi said. 

She returned to her office. 

Gideon entered almost immediately. 

"Three platoons have struck."

"Casualties?"

"None."

"None?" Naomi asked. 

"They decimated the demons without incident. And recovered several angel blades in the process."

"Good, keep me updated."

 

"I've found something," Cas said. 

Dean slept awkwardly on the couch. Ellie had conked out on a large armchair hours ago. Only Sam and the angel remained awake, digging through the dozens of books before them.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"A spell, it does what you described – "

Sam grabbed the book and stared at it intently. "It says the same thing: the amount of energy required burns away human bodies."

"That's never going to change," said the angel. "You can't do it with less energy."

"So you're saying the trial is impossible?" 

"No, I'm saying you can't do it with less energy, so you need to focus on other elements."

"Like what?" Sam asked. 

"Protecting the body, shielding it somehow," Cas said. 

Sam took a moment. He asked again, "What if we took her soul out of her body?"

"Then the energy would burn away your body," Cas replied. 

"Okay, in that case, what I'd need is a way to shield my own body," Sam said. 

"And of course methods to remove the soul and put it back in," Cas reminded him.

"It's happened to me!"

Cas looked slightly embarrassed. "That was an accident."

"I know that, Cas, I do," Sam said. Normally he would take more time to explain things to the angel, but right now he didn't have the time. "My point is, we both know it can happen. So we can figure it out."

"You should sleep, you look horrible," Cas stated. 

"I can't sleep."

"Yes you can."

"What?"

"Go lie down."

"Cas – "

"I'll find out the rest by the time you wake up, go lie down. You'll fall asleep. Trust me."

Sam recognized those last two words. He should have expected this after their chat in the Impala. Castiel needed to know if Sam really forgave him, really trusted him. The only way to know for certain would be to put that trust to the test. 

So Sam replied, "Okay."

Sam made his way to his bedroom, unknowingly followed by an invisible Castiel. What Sam thought to be a test of trust was, in fact, a gift to Dean. As soon as the younger Winchester's head touched his pillow, Cas touched his forehead and sent him into a deep, restful sleep. At the very least, his complexion could be restored overnight.

 

Wier and Avery approached with matching injuries: black and blue with red bubbling out of their faces.

"You should get cleaned up before reporting," Crowley barked. "Your meat suits are bleeding all over the carpet."

"Sorry, sir, but we needed to report right away," Avery began.

"Our ground troops are all wiped out," Wier interrupted. 

"Sorry, say that again?" Crowley said dangerously.

"The angels have organized a massive army," Avery began. "The only way I managed to salvage a dozen of our best Deal Makers was to throw – "

"He discarded dozens of angel blades!" Wier yelled. "Just threw them away!"

"Avery, darling, please tell me you didn't waste our entire angel blade stock on that little tussle," the King said. "Because I remember specifically ordering you to lock them up until I said otherwise."

"Yes, sir, you did, but – " Avery began. 

Crowley's eyes connected with Wier, who nodded. Before Avery could continue, Wier wrapped a long chain around his neck and dropped him to his knees. 

"I think it goes without saying, but your position has been terminated at this time," Crowley said right before Wier decapitated him. 

No black smoke. No re-attachment of the head. The meat suit remained broken on the floor. 

"The R&D folks whipped this together for our angelic buddies, but it apparently works on demons as well," Wier said quietly. "Made from the melted remains of broken angel blades."

With the stiff diligence of a solider, Wier presented Crowley with the chain as if it were a new sword. He added, "Sorry about the carpet."

"Don't worry about that, love," Crowley said. "Just fill me in on the status of the armory."

"The idiot did drop about three dozen angel blades to save his own skin," Wier said. "We've about ten left."

"Ten? That can't be right."

"R&D used their entire supply already," said Wier. 

"The one time they're actually on schedule with their work!" Crowley mused. "Fine. What else?"

"Full retreat. All our forces are locked up and pissed off."

"So we need our angelic friends to withdraw," Crowley said quietly. "Where are we on that?"

"On schedule, sir."

"Excellent. Now all I need is a new carpet!"

 

Sam's cough made every muscle tighten in Dean. Castiel's collection of archaic knowledge harmonized awkwardly with the Men of Letter's collection of notes, journals, and books, but they managed to gather enough pieces to put together a rudimentary map. 

"Sam, shielding your body from this is like protecting it from a small nuclear explosion an arm's length away," Dean cut in. "There's nothing here to do that."

"There has to be something!" Sam growled, grabbing his head.

"You okay?" 

"I'm fine!"

"Wait a minute. Henry's closet-journey!" Dean said as his eyes slipped over his dad's old journal, which originally belonged to his grandfather.

"Time travel? How will that help?"

"No, I mean how he did it," Dean said, pulling Sam around in his chair. "He tapped the energy of his own soul."

"You understand the problem is with how much energy, not about where the energy is coming from?" Cas commented. 

"Yes, Cas, but if Sam can tap his own soul for some juice, and tap Ellie's for a little more, then maybe he can zap the mark off her without biting it or killing her," Dean said, stumbling over his words a bit. 

Sam nodded in agreement, "If I take half the energy from my soul, and half from hers, then we should both survive."

"You wouldn't be able to do it here," Cas said. "That amount of energy would cause a number of issues with the magical defenses of this place."

"Like what?"

"Obliterating them, for one thing," Cas said mildly. 

"Awesome."

"The bigger issue is that I don't know how to do it," Sam admitted. "Tap my own soul."

"And it will render you comatose," the angel said. "As well as Ellie."

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine," Dean said.

"What I mean," Cas began, "is that perhaps it's not his own soul he should tap. It's dangerous and harder to control than tapping someone else's."

"You mean like mine?" Dean asked.

"Unless you have another suggestion," Cas replied as he took one of Dean's phones.

"What are you – "

"I'm calling that Garth person," the angel replied. 

"Why?"

"We can't do this in the bunker," Cas said. "He is the only living person you know that would be able to provide another location."

"Give me that," Dean said snatching the phone out of Cas's hand. "I'll call Garth. You need to teach Sam the soul-tapping-thing."

 

Castiel prepared the cabin basement with layers of warding magic, defensive shielding, and even corner blessings. They needed everything.

Sam's competence was frightening. He had mastered tapping his own soul almost immediately, and he had no difficulty tapping into his brother's either. If they had time, Cas would have taught Sam a number of other, simpler spells, but his illness continued on a steady progression. There was no time for partial lessons. 

"Is the basement ready?" Sam asked as the angel returned to the living room. 

"It is."

"Okay, then you should go get Dean and Ellie."

"Me?" Cas repeated. "Dean will be unhappy you let me drive the car."

"It's an eight hour drive in each direction, and I need to prepare. And some rest."

"You need time alone with yourself," Cas observed. "I understand."

 

The angel wasn't worried about Dean's response to him driving the Impala, but the idea of being alone with his thoughts was – a distraction, to say the least. It was so easy to dip into the temptation, to lose himself in moment, daydreaming about Dean Winchester.

At least with Sam or Ellie present he had been forced to make conversation. It took his mind – and more importantly, his vessel's body – away from the sexually alluring memories that filled up his mind any time he was still.

Castiel did not feel embarrassed or ashamed about his attraction to Dean. Having been uprooted from his emotions for months, the sensation was more than just desirable; it was required. _This_ was why free will was so important. His vessel's physical reaction to Castiel's feelings for Dean was perfectly natural. Love and sexual desire often combined and became arousal, but while he knew no shame for his erection, he had little experience with his own sexuality. Angels didn't have sexes, so sexuality was not a general concern. 

So Cas took some time in the bathroom, unsure of how to handle his, well, situation. He wanted to teleport to Dean and to kiss him, to throw him down on the bed and make the hunter squirm in pleasure.

Cas discovered that handling the erection produced a certain kind of experience – a very specific kind of friction – that was enjoyable, but simply rubbing his hands along his own length was not enough to appease his sexual appetite.

Sexual appetite. He hadn't had that before, perhaps it was another gift from Dean Winchester.

Dean. As he pictured the human in front of him, the strokes became more pleasurable. So Cas imagined kissing Dean, slipping his tongue into his mouth, and nipping at his neck. He imagined Dean's hands rubbing small circles into his calves and then his thighs, slowly moving upward towards his swollen cock.

His heartbeat increased rapidly, and Cas found his body sweating profusely. It was incredible.

He continued his fantasy. Dean tossed the angel on the bed and undressed him, slowly unzipped his pants. Dean cupped his balls and rubbed his thumb down the length of his dick while his tongue ran across the head. Two of his fingers, slick and smart, slid inside of the angel, while Dean continued to suck, hard on his erection, his emerald eyes staring up at Castiel to gage his satisfaction. 

Dean let go, keeping his fingers inside Castiel, and adjusted, so his knees splayed the angel's legs apart. When he removed his playful fingers, his hand wrapped around the base of Cas's cock and stroked, and then the hunter steadily pushed his own throbbing erection into Castiel, finally bottoming out with a moan of the angel's name.

Cas bit his lip, hard. He sped up his hand, jerking himself off, as he dreamed of Dean's powerful thrusts inside of him over and over again, punctuated by moans of Castiel's name from Dean's lips –

Cas shuttered and sighed as he ejaculated hard and fast. He slumped against the wall of the bathroom, panting for breath. Maybe it was just a fantasy, but if it was anything close to the real thing, then – 

The angel waved his hands and cleaned the bathroom as well as his clothing. If he and the Winchesters were to survive this ordeal, his personal self-discovery - and sexual gratification - would have to take a back seat for the moment.

He fixed his attire and left the cabin. Sam hadn't noticed the angel had been delayed.

 

Dean and Ellie packed up a number of odds and ends in the bunker. 

"We've got like ten bags, are you sure – " she started.

Dean cut her off. "Trust me, we'll need it. This is dangerous enough. We need contingency plans for, well, pretty much everything. Uncharted territory."

"Normally I would make a snide comment," Ellie said. "But you're saving me from an eternity in Hell, one way or the other."

"One way or the other?"

"If this kills me, my soul will – "

"Woah, we're not killing you," Dean cut in. "You are not going to die. That's why we're taking all this stuff."

"But, Dean – "

"No buts, no questions, nada," Dean corrected. "You are going to be fine. You understand?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dean's phone rang.

"Sam?" Dean said into the phone. "You guys ready for us?"

"Uh, yeah, didn't Cas tell you?" Sam asked. "He should've gotten there like four hours ago."

"What?"

"I sent him to pick you up, but I haven't been able to get him on the phone – "

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked. "He took my car, and now he's missing?"


	5. Around and Around

Gideon didn't knock. He appeared in the middle of the office without so much as a flutter of wings.

"Ma'am," he said. "Urgent news."

Naomi didn't flinch. "What is it Gideon?"

"Full retreat, but no sign of the Angel Tablet."

"I see."

"And we've captured Castiel."

Naomi's eyes lit up. "Where is he?"

"Your interrogation chamber," Gideon smiled.

 

Lachesis never had her own space before. Her sisters had crowded her for their entire lives, but now she had her own laboratory set aside by Crowley himself. 

Steam set off a whistling recourse over her most recent distillation. Lachesis had always been fond of chemistry, and nothing satisfied her more than creating a new poison. Her latest project came directly from her own personal venom, so it would be damaging and deadly to demons, Leviathans, and angels. 

"You doing okay in here, love?" Crowley asked. 

"Better than okay," she said. "Soon there'll be more than enough poison for a full arsenal."

"Good but I'm not here about that."

"You're here to ask about the Tablet," she said sagely. 

"You have it?" Crowley asked. "I don't recall – "

"No," Lachesis answered. "Therion took it."

"Sorry, what?"

"Therion – "

"And you didn't stop her?" Crowley demanded. 

"Why would I?"

"Why – Why?!" Crowley exploded. "Am I really so surrounded by idiots that you don't know why?! You – "

"Why is all I asked," Lachesis said calmly.

"You let Therion take the Angel Tablet?"

"No, of course not."

"What have we been talking about, again?"

"Therion took the Leviathan Tablet."

"I didn't have the Leviathan Tablet," Crowley said immediately. 

"Yes you did. I saw it."

"You can tell them apart?" 

"No, not at all, but Kevin can," Lachesis replied. "And the one he had that was all covered in blood? That was the Leviathan Tablet. Therion took that one."

"Sorry?" Crowley said, his brow twitching. "Are you telling me that I never had the Angel Tablet?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can't tell them apart, only Kevin Tran can – "

"But did he ever see the Angel Tablet?"

"Not before I captured him."

"What about the day he escaped?"

"No," she said. 

"Damn it!"

Lachesis continued. "Uh, well, Therion took it for Prophet Bait. That's why I let her, which, if you remember, was your initial question."

"How?" Crowley growled. "How!"

"If you're wondering about Castiel," she said, "Angels captured him hours ago."

"Love, you're very valuable," Crowley began. "But so help me, you've failed to report three major events, and this isn't Wall Street. It's not three failed businesses, whoops, here's a fourth! Come on, I'm drowning with incompetent suckers who have a little smidge of power and go off their freaking rockers!"

"You need to unwind," she replied. "Relax. This is good news."

"Just because you're a Fate doesn't mean you can act like everything's going according to plan when everything is completely bullocks!"

"You know the Winchesters," she said. "What do you think will happen if they find out that angels captured their precious little Castiel?"

"Nothing," Crowley said. "What can they do? If the angels have him in Heaven, it's not like they can just flit up there to get him. They may be enormous pains in the ass, but Heaven's got that at least on them."

"Unless," Lachesis baited. 

Crowley bit the hook, "Unless?"

"Another angel were to help them out. Drop them a line on the whole thing," she said. "He'd just need a little, uh, push in the right direction."

"I see. You setting this in motion, then?"

"Only if you want to give me that fourth business to plow directly into the ground."

"Plow away love, plow away!"

 

Castiel's vessel bled freely. The restraints technically held him down, but they were unnecessary. Naomi had been excessively ruthless. 

"How could you?" she repeated. "You did all this to protect two humans? To hurt Heaven even more?"

Castiel did not respond. 

"I actually thought I could help you," she said. "I thought you could be brought back into the fold. But you nearly killed yourself to protect Dean Winchester. Tell me why Castiel."

"Are you asking to see if your newest modifications have erased my understanding?" Cas asked. 

"Not your understanding, Castiel, the emotions that've grafted onto your being from the poison of humanity," Naomi said.

"Poison?" Cas repeated. "If I am not mistaken, you still take walks in the garden with one of the archangels. Because of your love for - "

Pain. Noami gripped Cas's neck tightly. "Do not compare the love I have with the bastardization you entertain for a human. You're confused Castiel. That's why you don't know the difference."

Cas laughed. She let go of him and stepped back.

"I'm the one restrained," he said, "and you're the one who's terrified, Naomi. You've been in my head. You know the truth, and you can't forget it."

"You're insane," she said. 

"You've already tried to obliterate my emotions," Cas replied. "You failed."

Naomi smiled. "You don't understand. My orders were to fix you, but if I can't, then my orders are to destroy you."

Castiel smiled back at her. "You know that, once you do, your situation will come under review."

"My love is for another angel," Naomi hissed. "Your feelings are an abomination."

Castiel did not respond. 

Gideon knocked. 

"Enter," Naomi said. 

Gideon didn't even glance at Castiel. 

"Did you find him?" Naomi asked.

"Metatron fled upon our arrival," Gideon said. "But he had been staying at the location you, uh, retrieved from Castiel."

"Gideon, pull everyone out of the field. Even our advanced scouts," she said. 

"But, the Angel Tablet – "

"Is safe," she said. 

"What about the secondary guard on the Winchesters?" Gideon asked.

"Them too," Naomi said, sneaking a peek at Castiel's response. She could feel his discomfort elevate to fear. "The Winchesters will be on their own until I can find where he hid the Angel Tablet."

"Yes, ma'am," Gideon said before he bowed out. 

"Where is it, Castiel?" Naomi asked. "Is it with the Winchesters?"

Castiel did not respond.

 

Dean rolled up to the safe house in the Impala. For a fleeting moment, Sam thought maybe they'd found a very lost Castiel on their way here, but Ellie and Dean came into the house alone.

"Dean?"

"Sam."

"The Impala – "

"GPS led me to her, abandoned at a gas station. The guy almost had her towed!"

"Any sign of Cas?"

"No."

Ellie dropped a bunch of bags on the couch and went out to the car for more. 

"What's all this?" Sam said.

"Contingency," Ellie said as she dropped two more bags. "There's just one more."

She ducked out again. 

"You think Cas is okay?" Dean asked. "Maybe Kev just gave him a call?"

"I already checked in with Kevin and Garth," Sam admitted. "They haven't seen him." 

Silence. Even someone as defensive as Dean could not hide the depth of his current misery. 

"Look, we do this Dean, and we finish these trials, the next thing we'll do is find Castiel, all right?" Sam said. 

"Yeah, right."

"Dean – "

Ellie returned with the last bag.

"We should really get this stuff downstairs," Dean said before Sam could talk about Cas again. "Come on."

Dean started down the stairs. Before Sam could grab a bag, Ellie got his attention. 

"Sam, a minute," Ellie began.

"What is it?"

"I need you to make me a promise."

"Sure, anything."

"Dean doesn't understand. So between us – "

"Between us," Sam agreed.

Ellie said, "If you have to decide between saving my soul and saving my life and leaving me on the hook – "

"Ellie, that's not – "

"Promise me you'll save my soul."

Sam met her eyes and saw there was no discussion. "I promise, but I'm hoping it won't come down to that."

"I don't think it will," she said, "but as recent events have made it clear, sometimes a curve ball is sent your way and you just have to deal. And the last thing I want is for you or Dean to blame yourselves. You've done nothing but help me since the day we met."

"Am I carrying down all the bags? Is that the deal?" Dean asked as he returned from the basement. "Let's move."

**Author's Note:**

> The episode title and its chapter titles are all derived from the Nirvana song "Turnaround."


End file.
